


All That You Have Is Your Fire

by tehhumi



Category: The Silmarillion and other histories of Middle-Earth - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Gil-Galad son of plot hole, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Post-War of Wrath, but only before the story starts, diverges due to Gil-Galad's actions, first chapter is canon compliant, like two days after
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-30
Updated: 2019-01-27
Packaged: 2019-09-02 15:10:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,455
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16789417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tehhumi/pseuds/tehhumi
Summary: As the dust settles after Morgoth's defeat, Celebrimbor tells Gil-Galad some highly relevant family history.





	1. Chapter 1

Gil-Galad Erenion, high king of the Noldor, sat with Celebrimbor in the living area of his tent. The smith had asked for a private meeting to discuss ‘family history’, but now that he was here, he seemed to be having difficulty knowing where to start.

“If you asked for this meeting just to see how shocked I’d be to be informed I’m not Fingon’s son, I’m sorry but it will be disappointing to you.”

Celebrimbor smiled a little at that. “That’s part of it, but I rather doubt you’ve guessed the truth about who your father _is_. I’ll tell you a story, and you’ll see how it connects soon enough.”

Gil-Galad let out a sigh. “Fine, but if this turns into an attempt to grant a pardon for your uncles, I won’t be happy. I’ve already rejected Elrond and Elros’s pleas.”

“Don’t worry, Maedhros and Maglor don’t feature in this story at all. Once, in Nargothrond, there was a woman named Ondolótë, Gonloth in the Sindarin. She was, like many others, without family, her father having piously remained in Tirion and her mother dying in the Dagor Aglareb. She held her loyalty to King Finrod Felagund, and to the city of Nargothrond. She was skilled in battle, and enjoyed painting landscapes, decorating much of the city with scenes of Valinor, and Belriand, and even a small painting of the stars over the Helcaraxe. One day, some kinsmen of the king arrived in the city, seeking refuge for their people after a terrible battle in the north. Among them was a smith named Tyelperinquar, eager to meet new people and see the fabled Carven City.”

“If you’re going to talk about your deeds in the third person, we are going to use the royal first person, at least until you get the point of this story, which as we recall was about our parentage.”

“Alright. I arrived in Nargothrond, and fell in love with Ondolótë. My father didn’t approve due to her loyalty to King Finrod, but we married anyway. When Finrod and his Ten went to aid Beren, she felt her place was to stay and protect the people of Nargothrond – only partially to not risk the child within her. My father and uncle took control of the city, and she hid her pregnancy, as Curufin would have used it to bring her under his control as his daughter-in-law. When Luthien freed Tol Sirion, and the former thralls returned, I stood against my father and uncle. I was allowed to stay in Nargothrond, along with our people, though we were still regarded with suspicion. Ondolótë gave birth, and we raised our son together for a few years, though we kept the fact that he was mine quiet from most of the city. I am regarded as having escaped the madness of my family, but who knows if such a thing could hide in the blood, and any child of mine would obviously be waiting to usurp the throne.” Celebrimbor delivered this last with a roll of his eyes.

“When Lord Maedhros and King Fingon called for all to unite and take the battle to Morgoth, both she and I wished to fight. The Feanorian followers still in Nargothrond were more loyal to me than to Orodreth, and needed no persuading to join the rest of our kinsfolk in the fight. Orodreth was glad to see us go, but said that if we left we wouldn’t be welcome to return, as we were quite flagrantly disobeying his orders. Ondolótë, though loyal to her city and her king, felt the best expression of that was to do what was necessary to protect them. We left our son to Orodreth’s care, as he was after all a kinsman, and she rode out in Gwindor’s company.

“She died. So did all those who had fought alongside her. I was on the eastern flank of the battle, and around half of my company survived. They returned to Celegorm and Curufin’s service. They called me a coward, for I did not stay to hold back what orcs we could, but rode south as fast as I was able. When I reached Nargothrond I did not stay long there, but took my son and went to Balar.

“Of course, Feanorians were hardly more welcome there than Nargothrond. The failure of the battle was blamed greatly on Maedhros, for not coming to the King’s aid, and for having such a foolish plan to begin with. My son was old enough to speak, but not old enough to be good at keeping secrets. I told him that the reason we looked so similar was that I was related to his father, the great High King Fingon, and by the time we reached the shore he mostly believed it himself. Fingon was the only relative of mine who died in the Nirnaeth, and therefore could not dispute a supposed child.”

Gil-Galad sat in shock for a moment. “You?! You, Celebrimbor Curufinwion, you’re my father?!”

“Yes, Artanáro, I am. I rather thought your name might be a clue, honoring my grandfather as it is, but I suppose I’m not a particularly likely suspect.”

Gil-Galad sat in surprise for a moment, which swiftly turned to anger. “Why did you wait so long to tell me?!”

“I had initially planned to do so when you came of age at fifty. However, by then my family had sacked Doriath, and our reputation was worse than ever. Moreover, when Turgon died, all the Noldor who were left started calling you king. You were young and naïve enough then that you would have told everyone the truth. At best this would have led to arguing among separate factions, some arguing for you as king, some for Earendil, some for Maedhros, some for Galadriel, dividing us in a way we could ill afford. More likely the factions would not have kept to words, as killing a kinslayer is widely considered to be just. An assassination attempt might even have been possible.”

“And now?”

“You’re older, and understand more of politics, including that kings keep information from their people for the good of the realm. If you do decide to tell everyone the truth, you’ve got a reputation of your own as a strong commander and wise king; it is possible the people would still follow you. Even if they don’t, Morgoth is gone; we’ll survive physically, if perhaps not culturally.”

“That’s a rather cold-hearted approach to telling your son the truth about his origins.”

“You want the soft hearted approach? I would have told you sooner, but I was afraid you’d die. I hated the distance that grew between us over the years, but I knew it was necessary to keep the stain of our family name from touching you. My father died without ever learning he had a grandson, and that was for the best. My father and uncles and grandfather may be in the everlasting darkness. According to Eonwe, I am specifically banned from returning to Valinor, due to my part in the rebellion of the Noldor. Ondolótë is not, and will be reborn someday, but I shall never see her again. You could though, if you wish; there are still ships departing.”

“You wish to send me away? Your son no longer distracting you, now that he’s not needed to fight a war?”

“NO! I wish you to live, and although there is no promise of safety anywhere, Valinor is better than Beleriand. I don’t expect you to go though, I raised you with too much honor to leave your people while they might need you.”

“You know, there was one benefit to believing Fingon my father. He died, and so did not leave me by choice. When I thought Orodreth might be my father, I hated him for abandoning me, and you’ve done the same, even if it took you a few years.”

“If I’d been most worried about you resenting me, I would have taken you to Amon Ereb. You’d have been raised to prize family and respect for one’s father above all else, and believe my only fault was when I briefly lost faith in mine. You’d also be dragged along into the fight for a Doomed cause, but you’d never think to hate me for it.”

Gil-Galad was stunned again at that, as Celebrimbor had never before spoke ill of his family in Gil-Galad’s hearing – or indeed, said much at all of them. “They’re really that terrible?”

“Not terrible – you would have been taught all a prince of the Noldor needs to know – just insular. You rely on your family and those personally loyal to you, and they rely on you, and the rest of the world can burn. Ondolótë was the first person to show me that loyalty could be any other way. All of Feanor’s followers are the same, loyal to Feanor first, then his cause, and only after to the common good. Comes of defying the will of the Valar three times, I suppose, we cling to the reason we did so.”

“Three times? I know the Valar were against the departure to Beleriand, and there’s the Oath, but what is the other?”

“I wasn’t even counting the Oath, as only my grandfather and father and uncles took that. The first was the remarriage of Finwe, which the Valar approved but Feanor held to be unlawful, as do all his followers. The second was the exile to Formenos.”

“But – he went, didn’t he? The Valar exiled him for threatening to kill his half-brother, and he left.”

“Yes, but it was supposed to be solitary, a quiet time for contemplation. Instead, half the city came along, including the King, and we all loudly proclaimed his exile to be unjust.”

“You’ve never spoken ill of your – our – family before.”

Celebrimbor shrugged. “The Feanorian soldiers who came to me needed to feel like they weren’t abandoning our House. I’d already denounced my father in public, if I said any more their honor would demand they return to Maedhros. Besides, it’s all relative; none of them are as bad as people say, even my father.”

“Tell me about them. My grandfather, and great uncles, and great-grandfather Feanor.”

“I thought you didn’t want to hear a plea for their lives?”

“I don’t. But they are apparently my kin, and if I am to judge them, I must understand them. Moreover, I don’t know how much to trust myself. I had thought the blood of Feanor could be beaten by a strong will, with yourself as proof. But instead, I find you’ve been lying to me – your son, your king – for nearly a yeni. I do not if there is indeed madness in my blood, but I cannot risk my people. Tell me of them, the good and the bad, but the truth, by whatever love you have for me.”

So Celebrimbor told his son all, of growing up in Tirion, and coming of age in Formenos, and of the fight at Aqualonde and what happened after. If he focused more on Feanor and Curufin than on himself, that was as King Gil-Galad had commanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ondolótë - "Stone flower", I picture it as a fairly common Noldor name  
>  yeni - 144 years, since elves count in base twelve  
>  Artanáro - "Noble fire", the Quenya version of Gil-Galad's canonical father-name
> 
> Timeline - mostly from tolkiengateway.net, with additions  
>  455: Celebrimbor arrives at Nargothrond  
>  466: Quest for the Silmaril, Gil-Galad born, Celegorm & Curufin cast out  
>  472: Nirnaeth Arnoediad, Ondolote dies, Celebrimbor takes Gil-Galad to Balar  
>  495: Nargothrond falls, refugees come south  
>  506: Second Kinslaying, Curufin dies. Doriath’s survivors come to Sirion. First wave of Feanorian defectors come to Celebrimbor  
>  510: Gondolin falls, Turgon dies. Survivors come to Sirion. Gil-Galad hailed as king of the Noldor  
>  516: Gil-Galad reaches majority  
>  527: “the Sons of Feanor begins to feel tormented by the Oath”, small number of Feanorian followers who can read the writing on the wall defect to Celebrimbor  
>  538: Sack of Sirion. Gil-Galad comes too late to give aid. Survivors come to Balar, as do more Feanorian defectors. Tensions rise  
>  545: Host of Valinor arrives  
>  590: Morgoth defeated and Silmarils taken from him, Celebrimbor talks to Gil-Galad


	2. Chapter 2

Finding Maedhros and Maglor’s camp would have been impossible for most people. But Celebrimbor was lord of the Feanorians who followed Gil-Galad – the ones that other Noldor called ‘loyal’ to the king. Moreover, Maedhros and Maglor had a habit of leaving those too badly injured to fight at the camp of the Lords of the West. Some people thought this was out of heartless disregard for anyone no longer useful, but Celebrimbor was the one called each time to take responsibility for the wounded elves, and had spoken with them. The sons of Feanor had strength in arms enough to harm the Enemy, but they had little food and less medicine. Treatment more advanced than field dressing a wound was beyond their resources.

Celebrimbor therefore took as much medicine as could be spared and asked Macorod to show him to his uncles. Macorod had arrived a few weeks before Morgoth’s defeat, with a slice in her belly septic enough that she was lucky to have survived. She agreed only on the condition that Celebrimbor bring no sword, and that he be restrained and blindfolded when they got near the Feanorian camp. Celebrimbor knew that ordering Macorod as her lord would only force the issue of where her loyalties truly lay. Every elf in Celebrimbor’s command had given him their word to follow him in battle against Morgoth and _not_ to follow Maedhros and Maglor into a kinslaying, and Celebrimbor had no desire to test their allegiance for lesser causes, such as his dignity. And if it did come to a fight, one of him against dozens would go the same way in the end regardless of if he had a sword

None hailed them as they approached the Feanorian camp; the first Celebrimbor knew of their arrival was Macorod bringing their horse to a sudden halt. She straightened in the saddle and said “Don’t shoot! I am Macorod of the people of Fëanáro, and this is Tyelperinquar. We mean no harm to any here.”

Maedhros’s voice rang out in reply. “I sent you away because you were too injured to fight. Why have you returned?”

Celebrimbor turned towards where his uncle’s voice had come from, as best he could while riding pillion with his hands bound. “She returns on my command, uncle. Macorod has recovered very well from the infection, and though she may not be well enough to stand battle, she is certainly well enough to escort a messenger.”

“On whose behalf do you bring messages?”

“Primarily my own, though King Gil-Galad is aware of my errand here.”

“No others? Perhaps the Valar request our surrender, to return in chains to Valinor alongside Morgoth?”

“I bring no orders from the Valar, not any requests for your surrender. I am here on no others’ behalf; Lord Eönwë, and for that matter King Arafinwe, do not know of my presence here.”

“For what purpose do you come here?”

“To prevent further bloodshed between elves if I can. If I cannot, to at least give what aid I can to our people.”

“What makes you think we need your aid?”

“I’m the one who is called every time a maimed elf is left on Gil-Galad’s doorstep, and I am the lord of those in the house of Feanor who will not pursue the jewels. The saddle bags are filled with medicine; I know you need it. Now uncle, can we please continue this conversation somewhere more private, and where I can see you face?”

“Very well. You may dismount, but the blindfold will stay on until you are in the command tent. Polalmino, escort my nephew.”

Someone, presumably Polalmino, steadied Celebrimbor as he climbed off the horse, and then led him by the elbow across the camp. He was guided to sit on a stool. When Celebrimbor’s blindfold was removed, he found himself in a tent far smaller than he expected. A table holding a map, with a chest full of papers underneath it, took up nearly the entire space. There was room for Maedhros Maglor and himself but only just, and though there were three stools, Celebrimbor was the only one seated.

To Celebrimbor, who had not seen them since the eve of the Nirnaeth, Maedhros and Maglor looked terrible. Maedhros looked nearly as bad as he had after Angband – though then Celebrimbor had not seen him until weeks after his rescue. Maglor looked incredibly worn, and Celebrimbor recalled how Elros and Elrond spoke of him (late at night, slightly drunk, where none but Celebrimbor could hear); Celebrimbor was not the only one present concerned for his son.

Maedhros spoke first. “Why are you here Tyelpe? You made it very clear last time I saw you that you wanted nothing to do with us.”

“I was mostly trying to show my father that I would no longer obey him, despite showing up to fight with the Feanorians rather than the rest of Nargothrond. I didn’t, and still don’t wish harm on you, or him, or even Uncle Turko.”

“Your company does not fight under Feanor’s banner.”

“It seemed presumptuous. I’m not the head of the house of Feanor, whatever some wish, and my company is made up almost entirely of deserters, by any reasonable definition. We may ride under the banner of Finwe, but I still wear Grandfather’s sigil on my armor and my clothes.” Celebrimbor paused, but if there was ever a time to be too loyal to his house, this was it. “I disavowed Curufinwe and Tyelcormo, but never Fëanáro. He was a great smith, a great man, and a great king. Despite his mistakes at Losgar and Alqualondë, I think the Noldor are worse off for his death. And he was my grandfather, and I love and miss him. I hope, one day, to craft something approaching the magnificence of his designs, and if the Valar are merciful even to show it to him.”

Maglor broke in. “Can you stop interrogating his loyalty for one moment? Tyelpe, it’s good to see you, you seem well. I’m glad you weren’t caught up in the sack in the Nargothrond. What news is there in the camp of the Valar?”

“I will tell you as much as is widely known; I’m sure you understand that the king requires some secrets. Morgoth is defeated; he will indeed be taken back to Valinor in chains. He is sentenced to the Void, and they say he will not be released again. Lord Eönwë has announced that Beleriand will crumble into the sea entirely, as the taint of Morgoth is too entwined in the land. The Valar are requesting that all elves come to Valinor as invited long ago, including Noldor exiles. Quite a few of us are staying though, and going east over the Ered Luin.”

“All are allowed to return, despite the Doom?”

“Artanis, as a ‘leader of the rebellion’, may return only if she repents. But even those who fought at Alqualondë are permitted, it’s not just for those born in Beleriand. I have not asked about the two of you, or myself, but our people may return.”

Maedhros spoke up, “That’s your solution, that we send our people to Valinor so they won’t kill for a Silmaril anymore? It will not succeed; these are our people, and they will attempt to aid us whichever shore we’re on.”

“I know quite well how loyal they are, given that Macorod wouldn’t allow me to see the location of your camp, despite my being nominally her lord. You asked for news, and this is what I have. My plan is far better.”

“What is your plan then?”

“If I had a Silmaril and refused to hand it over to you, would you be bound to attack me?”

Maedhros and Maglor had been exhausted, but both came fully alert instantly. Maedhros looked like Huan with a scent, while Maglor looked nauseous.

Maedhros leaned forward. “The Valar would never let you keep it, you fought at Alqualondë with the rest of us.”

“I have an idea for how to convince them, but I want to know if it’s even worth trying first.”

“You could have obtained the Silmarils, and then come to us.”

“I can’t do it both peaceably and quickly, and if I did, it would be foolish to give them to you. Everyone would see that you murdered hundreds and still got what you wanted; no one would stand for it. There would be a Kinslaying led by the Sindar, or perhaps Teleri, or the survivors of Sirion, until you two were either dead or had lost the Silmarils again.”

“So your motives in withholding the Silmaril would be entirely out of concern for us?”

“At least in part, but it’s not like motives have mattered to you before. Am I, Tyelperinquar Curufinwe, only grandson of Fëanáro Curufinwe, close enough kin to satisfy the Oath?”

“We actually discussed something similar before Doriath. We hoped Dior would see reason and yield the Silmaril to us, and we thought he might demand retribution against Turko and Curvo. If he has been willing to give it me alone, with them forbidden from touching it, they would not have argued. If you can obtain a Silmaril by promising not to give it to us, we will not oppose you.”

“And would the same apply to my son?”

Maglor exclaimed, “Curvo never mentioned you had a son!”

“He never knew; my son was born after he was banished from Nargothrond. My son did not fight at Alqualondë, and never swore allegiance to you or to Fëanáro. He has acquitted himself well against Morgoth’s forces, and the Valar will be more inclined to listen to him than to any of the rest of us. If my son obtains the Silmarils, what will happen to him?”

Maedhros asked, “How have we not heard of him? I would think another scion of Feanor’s house would be widely discussed.”

“My wife and I agreed that our son would be safer the farther from my family he is. Less than a dozen people know his heritage.”

Maglor blurted out, “We won’t kill your son.”

Maedhros turned to face his brother. “You can’t be sure of that.”

“You said yourself that Tyelpe is safe from us. His son is our kin as well. I will not attack our family - not for you, not for Father.”

“I cannot abandon the oath. Did our brothers die for nothing?”

“We’re not abandoning it! We’re keeping the Silmarils with our kin, as Father would want! He never wanted any of us hurt, and he surely wouldn’t want us to kill Tyelpe’s son!”

“A child whose name we don’t know, who has been raised apart from his kin, who may view Fëanáro only as a monster in the dark!”

Celebrimbor spoke up then, as little as he wanted to draw attention to himself. “I raised my son closely until he came of age. He knows of Fëanáro as a great craftsman, warrior, and king, who rashly let his revenge drive him to an early death.”

“You still haven’t told us who he is!”

“I will tell you my son’s name only when I know whether he will die at your hands if he manages to persuade Lord Eönwë!”

Maglor said, “We’re not going to hurt him, especially as he’d be doing us a favor!”

Maedhros rolled his eyes. “If the Oath only applied to people we wanted to hurt, Sirion would still be safe.”

The argument continued in this vein for nearly half an hour, during which Celebrimbor hardly dared to breathe. Maglor was incredibly eloquent in his arguments against fighting once more, but he was clearly going to obey whatever Maedhros decided. Maedhros was attacking the issue from every angle possible, though whether out of a sincere desire for the Silmarils or to make sure no arguments came up later Celebrimbor did not know.

Eventually Maedhros said, “You are right. Tyelpe’s son is our kin, and we would not need to wrest the Silmarils from him if he obtained them.”

Celebrimbor released the tension in his muscles. This is not the first time he’s stared down potential death, but it is the first time he’s done so without a sword in hand. If the answer had been otherwise, he would have been hard pressed to leave the camp – but he would have tried. He would escape or die, not make Gil-Galad choose between the safety of his people and his father’s life.

Celebrimbor wanted to turn the topic to anything other than the Oath. “I named my son after Grandfather, though I broke the pattern of using Curufinwe. He is named Artanáro, and has lived up to both the nobility and the unquenchable fire.”

Maedhros gaped. “Artanáro – you mean _Gil-Galad_? The High King of the Noldor?”

“Yes, he uses his mother-name for official matters. You see why I wanted to meet privately.”

“He certainly never treated us as kinsmen.”

“I told him the truth after Morgoth was defeated. It would only have hurt him earlier.”

“And King Gil-Galad, who has never met us and has no reason to love us, will go along with your plan? He will beg Eönwë for the Silmarils in order to spare those who killed his people at Sirion?”

“He was in fact the one who suggested it; I merely bought time by your letter from reaching Lord Eönwë. Gil-Galad feels a measure of responsibility for not defending Sirion, and wants very much to prevent a fourth Kinslaying.”

“If that’s his only goal, why did he send you, rather than a fully armed battalion?”

“He considers himself king of all the Noldor in Endórë, which does still include you. If you were to die in battle against elves, however well deserved it might be, he would count that on his conscience as well. Besides, you would take at least some of the battalion down with you”

Maglor untied the ropes around Celebrimbor’s hands. “It really is good to see you Tyelpe. Will you stay, to tell us of your son, and news from Aman?”

“I can stay for one more day, but I shouldn’t tarry longer. I told Gil-Galad to expect my return after six days, and we took nearly two to ride here.”

“And if you’re gone longer?”

“He may think I’ve been killed by orcs along the way. The lands are not entirely safe, and there are but Macorod and I.”

Maedhros said, “Surely he would not have sent such a small group if the danger was so great.”

“You would have seen a larger group as a threat. But you’re right, an orc attack isn’t what Gil-Galad will suspect first.”

“What will he suspect to have befallen you?”

“If I don’t return in time, Gil-Galad might think you are holding me captive, or have killed me. I was fairly certain the latter wouldn’t happen, but I’m not sure I managed to reassure him.”

“And the first case?”

“I didn’t think it incredibly likely. But if you thought you could trade the High King’s father for a Silmaril, I doubt you’d allow me to leave. You can’t, by the way, Gil-Galad won’t start persuading Lord Eönwë until I return.”

“He could be encouraged to do so, to save his father’s life.”

“The Valar won’t hand over the Silmarils to anyone who would give one to you. _They_ certainly don’t consider my life worth one. Now can we please stop discussing this?”

Maglor replies, “Of course. Any other family news?”

“Well, Aunt Findis moved to Valmar...”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quneya names are used in dialogue to indicate that characters are speaking Quenya.  
> Tyelperinquar or Tyelpe= Celebrimbor  
> Turko = Celegorm (short for Turkafinwe)  
> Curvo = Curufin  
> Fëanáro = Feanor  
> Artanis = Galadriel 
> 
> Macorod and Polalmino are OC's. Macorod means 'mountain forge.' Polalmino means 'big elm'. 
> 
> I went with the fanon of Celebrimbor's fathername being Curufinwe.  
> I headcanon Celebrimbor as coming of age in Formenos, and being early fifties at Alqualonde. This is why all names in text are in Sindarin - the fic is from Clebrimbor's perspective, and it's the language he's spent most of his life speaking.


End file.
